


Through the Window

by queen_of_hells_bells



Category: Supernatural
Genre: (only a little), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Baking, Christas music, Christmas, F/M, Fluff, I like her, Jealousy, M/M, Misunderstanding, Slow Build, Teacher Dean, Teacher Gabriel, Writer Cas, balthazar is a war correspondant, nice guy michael, rubys awesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-02
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-02-27 20:45:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 14,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2706155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queen_of_hells_bells/pseuds/queen_of_hells_bells
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a Christmas romance, okay guys? Totally cheesy, maybe some misunderstandings, definitely a fucktonne of Christmas music, and general cuteness on both sides.</p><p>Think of every Christmas chick flick you've ever seen. This will, hopefully, remind you of them.</p><p>P.S. Just FYI, this was inspired by something that actually happened to me today. And if you read the first chapter, you will find out what that something was.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sleigh Ride

When Castiel Novak first met the most attractive man in the known universe, he was wearing a bow on his head. Not the attractive man, Castiel. It was big and silver and sparkly and sticky; the kind that's supposed to go on presents under the tree, not into messy hair.

But that's what you get for letting your (surprisingly, to most people) older brother stay with you the month of Christmas. Not gratitude, but sticky silver bows in your hair.

The attractive man apparently lived next door, since that was where he had appeared: staring at Castiel out the kitchen window of the house next door, sipping coffee, watching the dark-haired man make a general fool of himself.

Castiel had been baking, hoping that a batch of chocolate chip cookies would abate Gabriel's sugar-tooth, when Sleigh Ride came on the radio. What else could he do, high on the spirit of early Christmas, than to get carried away by the classic hit and start to dance around? And by dancing around he meant mostly bouncing up and down, throwing his arms all around, and singing dramatically into an old wooden spoon.

It had been around the second chorus when he'd glance up to see the man in the window, all motion stopping in one horrifyingly embarrassing instant. Window-man was surrounded by a haze of light that had managed to wiggle it's way between the two town-houses, making his golden skin and light brown hair glow. If there were angels, Castiel had thought, this was what they looked like.

Absolutely mortified to be caught in such a childlike act, Castiel just stared at the coffee-drinking angel, who, in turn, stared back at Castiel with just a hint of a smirk on his face. Then coffee-angel had broken the staring contest to look down and start messing with something, giving Castiel the perfect chance to escape, taking the bowl of cookie dough to the safety of the basement, the only room in the house without any windows.

It wasn't until a few hours--and most of the cookie dough--later that Castiel emerged from the basement, and then only because Gabriel had been shouting.

"What do you want, Gabriel? If it's cookies, you're out of luck, I ate all the dough."

"You--never mind. I've just been pondering this sign and decided I could use the brain of a genius to help decipher it." As Gabriel scrounged the cookie bowl mournfully, looking desperately for any sign of remaining dough, Castiel glanced out the window, looking for the sign that Gabriel had been 'pondering.'

When he saw it--a small piece of lined paper covered nearly full with precise, thick capital letters--Castiel jerked back so quickly he nearly slapped Gabriel in the face:

**DON'T WORRY, I LIKE THE RONETTES TOO. TILL TOMORROW THEN? :)**


	2. It's Beginning to look a lot like Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wow. Angst already and it's only the second chapter. Go me.
> 
> P.S. Don't worry, an actual interaction is going to happen soon.

"What’s up with you, grumpy poo?” Gabriel looked inordinately proud of his first-grade rhyme. “Missing your friend with the sign?” He waggled his tawny eyebrows in a frankly terrifying way.

Castiel sighed heavily, trying hard to focus on the blank Word document in front of him. Shockingly, in contrast to thoughts of the attractive coffee angel, his review of Waging Peace was being sorely neglected. He sighed again before breaking one of his cookies in half and dipping it into his tea, continuing to ignore his brother.

Which is difficult to do when said brother snatches away your cookie and sits himself down in your lap. “Listen, Mr. Sighey McSigh-Sigh; this is your last chance to spend all day with your big bro. Talk to me about sign guy. Is he hot? I mean, he must be, but is he Colin O’Donoghue hot or Daniel Sharman hot?”

"I don’t know who either of those people are.”

“Ugh, Cassie, god. How can you be so smart and still not know anything important?” He dropped his head to Castiel’s shoulder, beating it several times while groaning.

Castiel looked down at his brother’s head suspiciously. “What’s the square root of 796,521?”

“God Cassie, I don’t know.” The words were muffled against Castiel’s shirt, making the younger brother snort and shove his brother off his lap.

“Gabriel, just because you work with six year-olds doesn’t mean you are one. Besides, shouldn’t you be at work today? Also, for future record, it’s 892.48.”

The shorter man looked up at Castiel through his now-ruffled bangs, a wounded look in his golden eyes. “Firstly, there aren’t words for how much I don’t care about the square whatever of the thingy. Also, it’s Monday; you know school doesn’t start till tomorrow. Today’s just for the squares who didn’t set up their classrooms before break.” Suddenly, his golden eyes flared with excitement. “You have all day to tell me about the sign-man!”

Groaning, Castiel dropped his head to his desk, his bereavement drowned out by Gabriel’s cackling.

 

“Dean! Winchester, get your pert ass back here!” Dean spun neatly on the tile floor, inwardly revelling at the way his coat flared through the motion; he’d missed this.

“Ms. Bradbury, how may I help you?” He flashed his most charming smile at the small red-head, making her snort derisively. "Need me to charm Misaouri into giving you more art supplies? Tips on how to ask out the hot new office assistant? Just general cheer and day-brightening?"

Charlie rolled her eyes, furiously fighting the bright blush that was threatening to take over her cheeks. "No! Shut up or I won't let you LARP with me for a month. Now, I got a call from Ruby yesterday afternoon, said you're stalking the new neighbor?"

"I am not! It was just a sign!" At the sight of his friend's sharply arched eyebrow, Dean sighed. "Look, he's really hot, okay? And he was being all adorable yesterday dancing to Christmas music in his kitchen and singing, so I wrote him a sign saying that it was okay because I like the song too."

"Which song?"

"Sleigh Ride. You know...'you hear those sleigh bells ring-a-ling, ting ting a ting-a-ling too.' You know."

Charlie nodded wisely. "Ah yes, the old ring-a-ling ting-a-ling. It's how I got all the girls in school." Dean rolled his eyes, turning as if to walk away. "Okay but seriously, what happened with the note?"

"I don't know." At Charlie's incredulous face, Dean just shrugged. "Really, I don't! I made the sign, looked up and he was gone. I put it up cause I figured he'd have to come back to the kitchen eventually. Haven't seen him since."

A light pinging sound broke the flow of conversation, and Dean pulled his phone from his pocket, looking at the flat touchscreen with a vaguely distrusting air. "Still haven't learned how to use the damn thing," he mumbled softly, fumbling with the slide lock, "Sam's being no freakin help at--oh."

"What oh?" Charlie bounced the barely foot of space between them to look at Dean's screen. "Good 'oh' or bad--oh." She looked up at her friends face, only to see that an intense mask of 'it's fine, I'm fine, everything is fine' had settled over his features. "I'm guessing that's him. Sorry, man."

"It's fine." With an air of finality, Dean maneuvered away from the picture, clicked his phone off, and slipped it into his pocket.

There was no need to dwell on a photo, grainy or not, of Dean's gorgeous new neighbor sitting with another man on his lap. The way they'd been smiling at each other, there was no way to misinterpret that.

Dean straightened his back, looked down at Charlie, and grinned. "Well m'lady, it's time to bid you adieu. I have classrooms to arrange." With a simple nod and salute, Dean turned neatly on his heel--jacket staying firmly in place--and marched off.

Charlie stared after him, the Viennese Boys Choir doing a beautiful rendition of 'Oh Holy Fuck' over and over in her mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, to the lovelies who left comments/kudos on the last chapter: I ADORE YOU. PRESENTS FOR EVERYONE. EVERYONE IS GLEN COCO. (I'm very tired if you can't tell.)
> 
> Second, PLEASE LEAVE MORE!!! I love kudos, I love comments, I even lose mental kudos. If you like it, please let me know!!
> 
> Third, (shockingly, I know) you can still find me on tumblr at queen-of-hells-bells. I'm always looking for more fandom friends.
> 
> Fourth, *mwah* I love you all.
> 
> Fifth, if you have any songs you want put in the story, comment that too. Or tumblr message me. Or stalk me, find out my address and write me a letter. Whatever floats your boat. 
> 
> Sixth, if you're reading this, please stop. Go to sleep, drink some tea, go for a jog, have a snack. But stop reading this.


	3. Santa Claus is Coming to Town

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> THEY FINALLY MEET! There's also baking, internal conflicts, Dean's inner monologue, etcetera etcetera etcetera.
> 
> POV Dean Winchester.

Dean was having a horrible week. Like, really really bad. In fact, he was pretty sure he hadn’t had a week this bad since he broke his car and his arm when Sam told him he was dating Ruby. Yes, miraculously, this week was worse than the week his baby brother had caused him to hurt his baby.

And it was all his stupid neighbors fault. The man was everywhere: the coffee shop at seven in the morning, grabbing two extra large black coffees to go, one with enough sugar to make a cake, before running out to a blue Prius and driving off with his partner; at Dean’s school, where he dropped off the shorter man with smile and wave, sometimes accompanied by a hug; in the kitchen, cooking, with his sexy body and his hair, always getting pulled into the rhythm of whatever song was playing on the radio and swaying his hips easily; jogging outside the front door every evening when Dean went back to the shop for this second cup of coffee; _everywhere_.

The worst part was that he always seemed so genuinely pleased to see Dean, too, though they’d barely had time to exchange any words other than ‘hello’, ‘goodbye’, and their names. _Castiel_. It was a strange name, sure, but Dean liked it. Joshua, Dean’s department head, had told him that it was the name of an angel--the angel of Thursdays--which was either a really interesting story or a really boring one. And the other man? A quick chat with Charlie revealed the man to be Gabriel Milton, a first-grade teacher. The redhead had introduced the two over lunch one day, and, as annoying as the short man was, Dean liked him.

The whole thing was horribly frustrating, and Dean had a horrible case of blue balls due to Cas, his running shorts, and his boyfriend. His overly sugar-hyped, over flirtatious, overly suggestive (Dean was pretty sure Gabriel was trying to set the three of them up for a little... _fun_ ), overly everything boyfriend.

Dean was slowly going insane, and it was showing no signs of stopping anytime soon.

 

“Have you considered, say, nutting up and having a real conversation with the guy?”

Dean picked his head up off the table to glare at his moose of a brother. “I’m sorry, Sammy, but did you not see the picture your demon girlfriend sent me? He has a boyfriend. Besides, even if he didn’t, what would I say? ‘Hello. I know you and I don’t really know each other, like, at all, but I’d really love to fuck your brains out so if that’s cool with you let’s get to it?’” He rolled his green eyes a bit overdramatically and dropped his head back onto the table.

He heard Sam’s big feet clomp around to the other side of the table, where the large man pulled out a chair and sat down, likely doing that annoying lawyer thing where he sat straight upright and stared at Dean until he talked. From experience, Dean knew it was better (not to mention easier) to talk quickly; Sammy could--and had--held the position for hours.

“Look, Sammy, it’s like...I really like him, and if there was no Gabriel, I’d be happy to be his friend, but having to watch you friend be blissfully happy with the love of their life--remember that Amy Pond girl and her boyfriend? It’s just painful, dude, you know that.”

“So you’re only willing to be his friend if there’s the opportunity for sex later?” Both men started at the sound of Ruby’s voice floating towards them from the doorway, turning to look at the feisty brunette lounging against the wooden frame. “That’s low, Dean. Maybe we should buy you a fedora and a Brony t-shirt.” Shoving off the wall with her shoulder, Ruby crossed the small room and hopped up onto Sam’s lap, smirking at Dean the whole time. Sam kissed the back of her neck lightly, causing Dean to simultaneously think they were adorable and to emote his revulsion.

“Guys, god, ew! Not in front of my virgin eyes! I’m sullied!” Sam’s mature response was to stick his tongue out at his older brother. “Wow, Sammy. Eight plus years of a Stanford education and the best you can do is stick your tongue at me. I’m really glad you spent all that money on an A+ education, really.”

Sam was opening his mouth to respond when there was a series of three loud knocks on the door. Slowly, like in a scene from the bad movies they all watched on weekends, all their heads turned to the door. The three knocks came again. Dean looked back to the table to see Sam and Ruby looking at him. Ruby smirked.

“Why don’t you get the door, Dean?”

Dean looked at the young woman suspiciously but rose from his chair, shouting a loud “I’m coming!” In response to a third set of knocks. “Jesus, you got a patience problem or--something?” The last word dropped off suddenly at the sight of his dark-haired, bright-eyed neighbor. Dean cleared his throat awkwardly. “Hey, Cas.”

Castiel Novak smiled up at him brightly, like Dean had made his entire day just by opening the door. Dean felt his heart rate speed up. “Hello, Dean. May I have a cup of sugar?”

 

An hour later, Cas and Dean were covered head to toe in flour, a German Chocolate Cake was happily baking away in the oven, and the four of them were sitting comfortably around the kitchen table drinking Ruby’s gourmet free-trade Guatemalan coffee. Shit was expensive, but damn was it good.

“So,” Ruby smiled at Cas over the top of her mug, “Cas. Tell me again why you needed sugar? And why there’s a cake in our oven? Also, can I have a slice?”

Dean rolled his eyes at her, but dropped them to his cup as soon as she looked his way; he loved the girl, but wouldn’t put it past her to put itching powder in his underwear again.

His lowered gaze was the reason he missed Cas glancing over at him before looking back to Ruby to answer her questions. “Well, I’m somehow out of sugar, and I wanted to make Gabriel a cake because, frankly, I’m tired of making cookies, and if he doesn’t constantly have something sugary around I’m afraid he’d drop dead of withdrawal.” Dean snorted, imagining the way the short teacher always seemed to be munching on some candy or another. How he kept his students from rebelling and stealing his stash, Dean had yet to discover. “As to why the cake is in your oven, well, Gabriel’s out catching up with some old friends, and my house is currently very lonely. Dean offered for me to stay and bake here, where there’s company.”

“Oh, did he?” Ruby smirked at Dean, her eyes laughing victoriously. “Well isn’t that sweet.”

Dean glared at her menacingly. “Ain’t nothin' nobody wouldn’t’ve done.”

“God, Dean, what did that sentence even _mean_? I’m pretty sure there were at _least_ six negatives in there.” Sam’s laughter was contagious, and soon he had Dean and Ruby laughing with him, while Cas looked on with confusion.

“I don’t understand. Dean merely said that he was just doing what anyone would--which isn’t true, by the way. Your actions were very kind, letting me use your baking materials like that. Also, Sam, there were only four negatives. Perhaps you should have taken more math classes while you were at school.”

They all stared at Cas blankly for a moment before Dean broke into raucous laughter, bringing a bright smile to Cas’ face. “Yeah, Cas, you tell ‘em. Sammy, you just got _owned_!”

Sam and Ruby looked at each other, eyebrows raised in a mixture of amusement and astonishment, at the blatant show of emotion from the usually “reserved” and “manly” Dean. But if either noticed the way Dean left his hand on Cas’ shoulder just a little too long, or the way the two men smiled at each other, or the way Cas stared at Dean like he was looking into the sun, neither said a word.

 

Later that night, long after Cas had taken his cake home with Dean’s number and a promise to text soon so they could hang out, long after Gabriel had slammed open his front door and screamed “Cassie, I’m home!” so loud that Dean could hear is upstairs at his house, long after he’d accidentally seen Gabriel jump on Cas in an attack hug as thanks for the cake, long after jerking off in the shower to thoughts of Cas smiling at Dean with flour on his nose, Dean dropped his head into his pillow and screamed.

He was so unutterably in love with Castiel Novak, and he was so completely fucked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, in case you didn't notice, this chapter was considerably longer than either of the other two. So that's a thing. I just got in the groove and started writing. Hope none of you mind. (Think of it as a present for me not updating in nearly a week.)
> 
> Second, I'M SORRY I HAVEN'T UPDATED IN NEARLY A WEEK. I'M ON A TIME CONSTRAINT HERE, YOU'D THINK I'D HAVE SOME MORE DEVOTION TO GETTING IT UP. SCHOOL HAS BEEN KICKING MY ASS I'M SORRY I STILL LOVE YOU ALL.
> 
> Third, if, even after that shitstorm you just read, you still want to find me on tumblr, I am and always will be at queen-of-hells-bells.tumblr.com. Come be my friend!
> 
> Fourth, as always, questions, comments, concerns, and kudos are my favorite things! Please leave them!
> 
> Fifth, LOVE!!!


	4. At Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A text conversation in four parts between Dean and Cas. It's sweet, though there's this one part that's gonna be revisited later. Promise.

**To: Dean:** Hello Dean. I hope this isn’t a bad time. I just dropped Gabriel off at his school. Where he teaches. He’s not a student. For a writer I’m n

 **From: Dean:** So you’re a writer, huh? Whaddaya write?

 **To: Dean:** ot very good at texting, I’m afraid.

 **To: Dean:** I write book reviews for the Inquirer

 **From: Dean:** Dude that’s sick. Oh, gotta go teach 9th graders why the Bible’s cool.

 **To: Dean:** You’re a teacher? I didn’t know that. Good luck.

 **From: Dean:** Thanks :)

 

 **From: Dean:** Did you know I teach at the same school as Gabriel?

 **From: Dean:** We’ve been eating lunch together a lot lately. He talks about you all the time.

 **To: Dean:** How often is ‘a lot lately’?

 **To: Dean:** And no, I did not know that. You two should carpool.

 **From: Dean:** I take the bus. And ‘a lot lately’ is pretty much every day this past week.

 **To: Dean:** He never mentioned it. How odd.

 **From: Dean:** You should withhold all baked goods until he tells you about me.

 **To: Dean:** Counterproductively, he’d probably murder me.

 **From: Dean:** But then he’d never get your sweet-ass cookies ever again.

 **To: Dean:** Precisely. Counter-productive murder.

 **To: Dean:** I’m being called to my bosses office. TTYL?

 **From: Dean:** Never say that again?

 

 **To: Dean:** I don’t understand. Isn’t TTYL the proper slang for continuing a conversation later?

 **To: Dean:** Also, I hate my boss.

 **From: Dean:** Only if you’re a teenaged girl.

 **From: Dean:** Why?

 **To: Dean:** I don’t know why they use so many abbreviations, Dean. Probably because they type so much and don’t want to use so many keystrokes, but I don’t actually know.

 **From: Dean:** …

 **From: Dean:** I meant why do you hate your boss?

 **To: Dean:** Oh. Because he is a rude and arrogant snob who thinks it’s alright to pursue me when I’ve clearly told him I’m not interested.

 **To: Dean:** And he gives me all the worst books to review because I’m new.

 **From: Dean:** What.

 **From: Dean:** Hold up.

 **From: Dean:** Back up about forty paces and pause.

 **To: Dean:** What?

 **From: Dean:** Your boss was hitting on you? That’s why you had to go to his office? To get harassed?

 **To: Dean:** Not harassed. Zachariah just makes his intentions very clear.

 **From: Dean:** Cas...that’s what harassment IS.  You should report him.

 **To: Dean:** To whom? He’s the boss.

 **From: Dean:** I don’t know. The cops? Someone. Anyone.

 **From: Dean:** Hold up. Student. Go nowhere.

 

 **From: Dean:** Sorry. Shouldn’t have yelled earlier. But you should still report him.

 **To: Dean:** Dean…

 **From: Dean:** Just my opinion.

 **From: Dean:** Anyway, what are you doing Friday night?

 **To: Dean:** Nothing that I know of. Why?

 **From: Dean:** I was wondering if you wanted to go to this little bookshop over on 2nd. I have to pick up some crap for Sam anyway and you like books.

 **From: Dean:** Or if you’re busy or something that’s cool too.

 **To: Dean:** I’d love to. I’m sure Gabriel could always use more cookbooks to make me use.

 **From: Dean:** Great. Friday night? Around five?

 **To: Dean:** How about closer to six? Have to make allowances for traffic.

 **From: Dean:** Dude. The bus. Use it.

 **From: Dean:** But sure. Six. I’ll be at your door. We can walk over.

 **To: Dean:** :)

 **To: Dean:** Gotta go. Getting on the road. See you later? Through the window?

**From: Dean:** Through the window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, I promise that the Zachariah thing will be revisited lately. Promise.
> 
> Second, You are all awesome and deserve to be loved because you keep reading and commenting and kudosing. I love you all!!
> 
> Third, Did the texting thing work for you guys? Just wanted to try something new.
> 
> Fourth, I continue to be at queen-of-hells-bells on tumblr. Come say hi if you want. (i'm desperate for friends help me)
> 
> Fifth, BASICALLY I JUST LOVE ALL OF YOU. BYE!


	5. Run Run Rudolph

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's far too late in the evening to be writing summaries. Here's a link to the song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KCTeXUkTFwQ. Go wild.

“So you crazy kids finally set up a date, huh?” Gabriel sipped at his mug of hot chocolate primly, staring inquisitively at his brother over the rim of his oversized mug. “Good. I thought I was gonna have to talk you up forever before he finally made a move.”

Cas stared into the depths of his own coffee mug, somewhat desolate. “I don’t actually know that it’s a date, Gabriel. He just asked me if I wanted to tag along to that bookstore over in Headhouse.” He sighed deeply. “He thought I might want to get something for you.”

There was a long silence; abnormally long for someone as vociferous as Cas’ brother. Cas looked up to see his brother smiling gleefully at him. “What?”

“You like him.” Cas’ eyes rolled so hard, they practically broke the bones surrounding them.

“Of course I do, Gabriel. We’ve talked about this.”

“No.” Gabriel stood, sloshing just a little cocoa on the floor, and moved to sit on the ottoman just before his brother. “You _really_ like him. Like, settle down with a 401 k and 2.5 kids like. Don’t you?”

Cas sputtered, each half-spoken syllable making Gabriel’s cheshire cat grin grow. Finally, he managed to gather enough composure to mutter out an indignant “no!”, but he could tell from Gabriel’s face that he’d already given too much away. “look, it’s...I don’t know. He’s handsome, sure--”

“And charming and smart and kind and nice and he likes kids and he’s a nerd.” Gabriel looked legitimately excited about the idea of Cas and Dean, but Cas reined in his shock and tried to keep being the pessimist.

“All that may be true, but I still don’t really know anything about the man. Hell, he could be straight for all I know.”

Gabriel stared into Cas’ eyes, an annoyed expression on his face. “Firstly, Cassie, the point of going on dates is to get to know the other person. Secondly, I know for a fact that he’s gay.”

“How?” The word was annoyed and clearly disbelieving. “How could you possibly--”

“Uh, hello?” Gabriel looked insulted at his little brother’s lack of faith. “Teachers lounge. Charlie, Dean’s best friend--lovely lesbian girl, I should talk to her about arranging something with me and Bal--” Cas gave an incredulous cough at his brother’s train of thought. “Anyway, Charlie told me that Dean dated Benny, the old Chemistry teacher until he moved back to Louisiana. Really torn up about it, rebounded for months. But,” Gabriel paused for a breath and triumphant look, “the point is that he’s totally gay, totally single, totally hot, and totally into you.”

Cas stared at his brother for a moment before sighing and looking down into his mug of now-cold cocoa. “I just--:

“You just nothing, Cassie! Go and get your man, you beautiful Casanova, you!” To punctuate his declaration, Gabriel slammed his now-somehow-magically empty mug onto the side table.

“I--” Cas’ eyes tracked between his brother’s exuberant gaze and the empty mug once or twice before he sighed again. “Yeah, okay.”

Gabriel cheered, standing and throwing his arms above his head and marching in tiny circles shouting: “Cassie’s gon get lay-ayed! Cassie’s gon get lay-ayed! Cassie’s gon get lay-ayed!”

Cas groaned, dropped his head onto his knees, and deeply regretted letting his brother stay in his house.

 

“Dean! Dean-o, hey! Dean!” Gabriel’s shrill shout chased Dean across the cold courtyard, causing the taller man to turn angrily around.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like Gabriel, because he did, it was just that Gabriel was dating Cas. Therefore, he was the enemy.

Pushing down his angsty Cas-thoughts, Dean managed to smile. “What’s up, Gabriel? Lose a six-year-old? Again?”

“Ha. Ha.” Somehow, though just a little red-faced  from running after Dean, there was still a lollipop sticking out the right side of his mouth. “Nah.” It’s just that Cassie tells me you two are going to some bookstore tonight. That right?

Dean bristled. What did this short-stack think he was? Dean knew Cas was in a relationship, he wasn’t a home wrecker. “Yep, we are. that gonna be a problem?”

Gabriel’s expression was contemplative, as though he was judging Dean for some crime. _Probably trying to scope out the competition_ , Dean’s brain suggested helpfully.

“I hope not. Now, Cassie, he seems to like you, and so do I, but he’s important to me--”

“I should hope so.” What was supposed to be a murmur came out louder than intended, but Gabriel just acknowledged the words with a nod.

“He is, and if you do anything wrong, make him upset at all, I won’t hesitate to destroy your entire world.” Gabriel smiled brightly around the lolly-stick, before reading up to put Dean’s shoulder. “Have a great day, Dean-o!”

Dean stared at the bare tree before him, contemplating kicking it until his foot bled. Gabriel might have played it cool, but the message was clear: hands off, or suffer the consequences.

Well, never fear, Gabe, Dean wouldn’t so much as smile flirtatiously in Cas’ direction if he could avoid it. _Fuck_.

He kicked the tree once for satisfaction’s sake. It didn’t help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, I'm very tired. That's where this came from. Tiredness and concert rehearsals. Not a good mix.
> 
> Second, I continue to be on tumblr at queen-of-hells-bells.tumblr.com
> 
> Third, Please, if you would, leave kudos, comments, etc etc. Of course, your only options are kudosing, commenting, and doing nothing. So, really, just pick one.
> 
> Fourth, I love all of you, promise. Cross my heart and swear to sleep as long as possible. You should also do that.


	6. Silver Bells

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Today's song: Silver Bells by Lady Antebellum https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OQLGdyV7Z9w

Cas didn’t get home until six fifteen, not that Dean was watching from the window obsessively waiting for him for anything. After all, it’s not like they had any sort of relationship, other than friendship. But, relationship or otherwise, Dean was at Cas’ door within five minutes of the raven-haired man getting home.

There was a muffled “It’s open” in response to Dean’s knock, and he swung open the door to find Cas and Gabriel locked in a tight, clearly comforting embrace. Cas’ face was buried in Gabriel’s hair, muttering words into the short man’s scalp while one of his hands moved up and down Gabriel’s back. Gabriel’s face, in turn, was hidden against Cas’ chest, his body shaking with quiet sobs.

Dean halted uncomfortably on the stoop, unsure of the best course of action: if he left, it would be weird, since he’d been told to come in; but if he stayed, staring at the two men, it’d be even weirder. Frozen and uncomfortable, Dean just looked away, feet firmly not moving.

Finally, he was saved by Cas looked up from his boyfriend’s head. “Oh, hey Dean. You ready?”

“We can---it’s--you know--we’ll just go another day. The sentence was so awkward that Dean wanted to slap himself. He was edging back towards the street when Gabriel lifted his head with a sniffle.

“No.” The short man looked at the other two defiantly, as though daring them to question his sudden non-sadness. “You two go. Have fun. I’ll be fine.”

Cas looked down at him with concern. “Are you sure? We can reschedule if you need me here.” He looked to Dean for reassurance, and Dean smiled and nodded in spite of himself.

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Don’t be stupid, Cassie. You’ve both been looking forward to this. Go have fun. Besides, you couldn’t change anything by being here, so you might as well go.” Cas opened his mouth to protest, but Gabriel shoved him towards the door. “I’ll call if I need you, okay? Then you can dash in like the knight in shining armor that you are.”

The two men embraced once more before Gabriel tore himself away and shoved Cas and Dean out the door, closing it behind them with a firm thud and a wave.

Charitably, the seven block walk to the bookstore could be called awkward. Dean wanted to ask about the hugfest he’d walked in on but knew it was probably a sensitive issue. He wanted to reach out and hold Cas’ hand, swing it between them as they walked, bring it to his lips and kiss it, but he knew he wasn’t allowed. He wanted to talk, about anything really, at this point, but he couldn’t think of a topic that wouldn’t end in ‘I know you have a boyfriend but I think you’re really funny and smart and kind and adorable and sexy, so please can we make out?’ And that seemed like the wrong way to start off a friendship, so he just said nothing.

The two walked expeditiously down South Street, hands deep in their pockets, the only conversation quick mentions of ‘cold out here’ or ‘the hell club are they waiting for’, completely ignoring the silver Christmas lights twinkling above them.

They reached the bookstore in record time, leaping through the doorway to avoid the next gust of icy wheel, sinking into the warmth of the store happily.

“Hello.” Dean looked up to see the checkout man staring at him. ‘Hello’ was right: the guy was hot. Not Cas hot, but along the same lines: dark hair, though kept short and styled, not windswept and sexy; blue eyes, but laserlike, not stormy and oceanic; tanned skin, strong jaw, nice style. Yeah, this guy was totally Dean’s type. Dean smirked.

And was promptly elbowed in the side by one of Cas’ sharp protuberances. He turned to glare at his friend before looking back at the hot sales clerk. “Hey. I’m Dean.”

The man smiled. “Yeah, that’s what Castiel here just told me. I’m Michael. You two need any help?”

“No, we’re--” Cas’ voice broke off with a soft grunt when Dean retaliated by elbowing him in the ribs.

Dean turned to smile brilliantly at Michael, completely missing the disbelieving look on Cas’ face. “I do, Mike. My brother needs more nerdy history books. You got anything with history and politics?”

“We certainly do. If you just step over here,” there was a momentary silence as Michael rounded the desk and led Dean to the nearest display. “I think you might find these titles to your liking.” As the books were exchanged, Dean let his hands cover Michael’s, holding them for just a beat past friendship. He felt guilty about doing this to Cas; after all, Cas was...perfect and wonderful and Dean loved him and--AND WAS IN A RELATIONSHIP. Which was key. That’s what Dean had to remember. He had no reason to feel guilty about it at all. Pulling himself together, he smiled brilliantly at the bookseller.

“Thank you, Mike. Can I call you Mike?”

“Only if you scream it.” The wink Mike gave him was interrupted by a loud crash from a few feet away.

Dean turned to see Cas staring at him, somewhere between incredulous and angry. “Something wrong?”

Cas’ mouth snapped shut as he leaned over to pick up the fallen books. “Not a thing. I just...I’ve got all the books I want, that’s all.”

Was it Dean’s imagination or was there a glint of sadness in those blue eyes? Not that it mattered, he thought stubbornly; Cas was dating Gabriel, he had no right to be annoyed with Dean for meeting someone else.

He watched Cas check out with an expression of deep annoyance on his face. Cas and Michael appeared to be trying to kill each other with icy glares. He could have gotten down on his knees and thanked god when Cas finally finished up so he could step forward.

“Dean?” Dean looked up from his wallet to see Michael nervously biting his lip. “I was wondering if you’d like to get drinks with me tomorrow night? At 12 Steps?”

There was a soft crinkling sound from where Cas was standing by the door, as though he was crushing his bag. Dean ignored it. “I’d love to. Five?”

Michael grinned brilliantly. “Five sounds great. I might be a little late though, the bus can be unpredictable sometimes.” There was an audible huff from the door; Michael smiled, pushing a piece of paper across the desk. “Here’s my number. Text me when you get home safe.”

Dean blushed; this guy was way too nice. “I will. See you tomorrow.” Waving once, Dean stumbled over the doorstep, nearly falling onto Cas. “Oh, hey, sorry man.”

Cas looked down at Dean, expression cold and reserved. “What the that, Dean? You two were practically molesting each other over the books.”

“The hell, man? What’s wrong with you? He’s hot, he seems nice, he’s smart, he’s single, he likes me. Who cares?” _I mean, he’s not you, but you have a boyfriend so fuck off._

“Dean, he propositioned you when you asked about his name! It was practically the second thing he said to you! I thought--”

“You thought what, Cas? That I shouldn’t have fun? God forbid, Cas! I’m an adult, I can make my own decisions!”

They stared at each other, chests heaving from their shouts. Then Cas sighed, ran a hand over his face and looked at Dean with a tired expression. “I just...Dean, be careful, okay? We don’t know this guy at all. He could be married or dating someone,” _Like you! Stop it!_ “Or something. I just want you to be happy, but tonight...I thought--” Cas broke himself off, waving his hand. “Never mind. Have fun. I’m gonna walk back if you wanna come.”

The walk back was, unbelievably, even more awkward than the first had been. And this time, Dean wasn’t even entirely sure why. They didn’t say goodbye before they went into their houses, and neither acknowledged the angry way they both slammed their doors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, I was supposed to put this up on Friday, but I fell asleep while I was writing and spent all of yesterday studying for exams. Sorry about that. There'll be another following later.
> 
> Second, I LOVE ALL OF YOU, even if you never comment on anything. I'll survive.
> 
> Third, Please leave comments and kudos if you want. PLEASE.
> 
> Fourth, I'm still on tumblr at queen-of-hells-bells.tumblr.com. Come visit me!
> 
> Fifth, Imma stop now. Goodbye.


	7. Cold December Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I apologize in advance for the Harry Potter reference.
> 
> Song: Cold December Night by Michael Búble

“Dean, you okay?” Ruby’s voice was hesitant as she moved slowly towards Dean. “What happened?”

Dean looked up at her from where he’d slumped against the door, eyes glistening with the ghosts of his past. “He hit on me. We’re going on a date.”

“This is good! Dean, yay!” She kneeled down beside him to give him a hug when she realized he was shaking his head. “Not yay? Why not?”

Dean swallowed awkwardly, “Not Cas--”

 

“--Michael! Who the hell is Michael?!” Gabriel’s face was getting redder with every word he yelled, every now and then making a kind of mad dash for the door forcing Cas to be constantly on his toes. 

"As I mentioned before--would you _stop_?--Michael is the man who owns the bookstore. He asked Dean on a date, and Dean said yes. _Please. Stop_.”

Gabriel’s eyes bugged out of his skull and he slumped down into a chair. “And you’re just--” 

 

"--okay with this? Dean, what happened to our plan? Fighting for your man?” Ruby was incredulous.

“It was a dick move, okay, Ruby? He has a boyfriend! It’s not like they’re gonna break up just cause I can’t keep it in my pants!”

She rolled her eyes, “Yeah, but accepting a date from a guy right in front of him? Total--”

 

“--dick move! What a dick! Right in fucking front of you? He knows you like him!”

Cas tried to bury his head into the marble countertop, blindly reaching for the vodka. He knew it was somewhere in front of him. Oh wait, there! Almost...no. It was gone. Looking up, he glared at his older brother. “Give me that back.”

"Not until you answer my question: why would he accept this douchebag’s request when he knows you like him?”

Cas’ sigh was loud and somehow profound. But that could also be the lightly drunk talking. “Did he? I mean, I thought I was being obvious, but what if he needs signals like Michael’s? I mean, Michael told him to ‘scream his name’. It was disgusting, but what if that’s what Dean needs?”

Gabriel shoved the bottle back towards his baby brother. “Then he’s completely worthless and not worth your--”

 

“--time. I mean, these past coupla weeks I’ve been chasing a guy in a relationship. What the hell was the point?”

Ruby pushed another beer in his direction, hoping that he’d catch it before it fell down the stairs towards the basement. He did not disappoint.

Taking a long drag off the bottle, Dean let out a loud ‘aah’ before starting back up his drunk ramblings. “I mean, Michael’s hot like Cas, he’s got the same...you know, he’s like Cas. His face and stuff. If I can’t have Cas, I might as well get somun who looks like Cas. Ya know?”

Ruby rolled her eyes, but let Dean talk through his depressing drunk thoughts. "If you want, I could go--"

 

"--give him a black eye, or maybe more, if you know what I mean." Gabriel waggled his eyebrows at his brother, somehow managing to be both hilarious and threatening. Or he would have been, had Cas' drunk mind been able to compute the motion. As it was, he instead just tilted his head in confusion.

"Don't...let's don't punch anyone. No blackness. Dean's too pretty to be funny colors."

"You're a weird, sappy drunk, bro." Gabriel shook his head at Castiel. "How bout I go have a talk with that Michael monster."

Cas' eyes got wide, and he somehow managed to half-lunge onto the counter, sloshing his vodka tonic on Gabriel's shirt in an attempt to wave his hands in his brother's face. "Noooo! He'd like... _destroy_ you. He's _huge_...and _strong_ , like, he's got--"

 

"--no muscle at all. You couldn't give Gabr'l a black eye if you _tried_. Now Sammy. _Sammy_ 'd kick his ass."

Ruby's was less than impressed. "Well, if you don't think I can take Gabriel, which I totally can, what do you want me to do?"

Dean thought for a long moment, his face creasing into a deep, and weirdly adorable, frown. Then he turned violently towards Ruby, grasping at her arm, "Get me over Cas! I can't go out with Michael if I don't--"

 

"--get over him, that's what I have to do." Cas nodded sagely at his own advice. "Let's come up with a plan! Let's! Now!"

Standing--and Gabriel used the word lightly because Cas' motion looked like more of an attempt to fly mixed with the death of Icarus--Cas fell to the ground hard. Stepping gingerly over his brother's still body, Gabriel grabbed him beneath the arms and pulled upwards. "Cassie, you gotta help me out here, I'm not this strong." With a lot of effort and pep talking, Gabriel yanked his brother to his feet, and somehow managed to pull him up the stairs. "Stop fighting me on this, Cassie. I'm tryin to help you here. Gotta get you to--"

 

"--bed, you big lump." With a deep, heavy huff, Ruby threw her almost-almost-brother-in-law onto his huge bed, watching him sink into the memory foam like he was going into the arms of an angel or something.

Sighing, she stared down at him, wondering how he'd gotten himself into this mess in only two weeks, and hoping that somehow he could fix it.

Little did she know, but another small, feisty human being was doing exactly the same thing in the room just across the wall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, Second chapter of the day! Yay!
> 
> Second, Read the last chapter's notes. They all still apply. I'm too tired to care.


	8. Honky Tonk Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Today's song: Honky Tonk Christmas by Alan Jackson (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4srJWElo4XQ)
> 
> Also, the date (like the month/day/year date, not the date they go on) in the story in this particular update is the 13th of December. Dean still has a week left of school to teach, and then Christmas break starts. Just FYI.

Michael arrived at the bar at exactly five o'clock, just a few minutes after Dean did. _Apparently the bus system works way better than the traffic_ , was Dean's malicious thought when he saw Michael's clean-cut head enter the barely-crowded room.

His second thought was a reminder to stop comparing Michael to Cas.

Dean stood hastily to pull Michael into a quick side-hug and peck on the cheek. "Hey there."

"Hey. Been waiting long?" Michael's eyes actually showed concern that maybe Dean had been waiting for him. He huffed a quiet laugh.

"Not at all. Barely five minutes. Got bored waiting around the house."  _Yeah right. More like, haven't been able to stop staring through the window into Cas' kitchen_. Pulling himself from his thoughts, Dean attempted a friendly smile in Michael's direction. "Have a good day?"

Michael shrugged. "I'm a small-scale bookseller in the electronic age. Not exactly the best life plan, but hey, what the hell, right?" He took a drink of the water they'd been brought earlier. "What about you? What's an attractive man like you do on a Saturday?"

"Mostly grade papers. But on this particular day I was just finishing up my exams." Dean shuddered; he hated writing exams. It was somehow worse than taking them. "Nothing interesting, I assure you." Dean stared at his water, counting ice cubes while debating whether or not to tell Michael that he'd also spend the better part of the day reviewing and grading all of Cas' reviews.

He decided that maybe not was the right answer.

"Dean? Dean!" Dean snapped his eyes away from his glass to see both Michael and Garth--the overly friendly bartender--looking at him with concern. Michael's voice dropped to a whisper as he leaned towards Dean. "You okay?"

Dean nodded shakily, "'Course I am." Turning to Garth, he held up two fingers. "Lagavulin. Neat." Garth frowned for only a moment before turning to get Dean's 'I need to get buzzed only give me watered down beer after this' drink and, presumably, whatever Michael had gotten himself.

Thank god he'd kept his mouth shut about it for once. Hopefully that trend would stick for the rest of the evening.

After what seemed like an interminable silence, but was probably only a minute at most, two glasses were placed in front of Dean, followed shortly by a bottle of Yuengling. God; Michael and Cas were so different it wasn't even funny anymore. Dean wasn't honestly sure if Cas even knew how to  _say_ Yuengling.

 _Stop_. He practically slapped himself.  _Stop thinking about Castiel. Ask about Michael._

Tipping the first glass of whiskey to his lips, Dean turned to Michael, gesturing to the beer bottle. "So, you from around here, or is that just your drink of choice?"

Michael looked almost surprised by the question, as though he hadn't expected Dean to speak. "Um, sorry. No, uh, born and raised on Society Hill, actually. Moved over to Headhouse because the Gayborhood was a little too liberal for my mother." He grinned, clearly reliving fights with the woman in question. Then he gave a quiet laugh. "My mom...she's quite a firecracker. A very conservative, very opinionated, very outspoken firecracker." A shake of his head and another pull of Yuengling were apparently required to make it through this. "What about you?"

"Picture perfect childhood. Grew up about 45 miles outside of town, grew up, moved to town, went to college, moved back, got a job. Etc, etc. For awhile there at the beginning we even had a white picket fence." It was Dean's stock answer, the one he gave all his first dates.  _One you'll never get to give Castiel_. Wow. His brain was in  _fine_ form this evening.

Shoving his annoying inner devil's advocate/conscience thing into a cupboard, he tried to keep talking about himself. "Mom and dad actually took the whole gay thing surprisingly well. In fact, I'm pretty sure my dad's trying to set me up with the owner of his hardware store." For a moment, Dean stared, horrified, into his second glass of Lagavulin before picking it up and downing it like a shot.

He looked up to see Michael looking at him curiously, almost nervously. "What's wrong?"

The dark-haired man tugged at his neck nervously for a moment, an adorable blush covering his cheeks as he blurted out: "You're single, right?" There was an awkward pause where Dean and Garth--who had paused to put a bottle of "beer" in front of Dean--stared incredulously at Michael. The blush got deeper. "I just meant...the man you came into the shop with yesterday...he's not. You two aren't..."

"Am I dating Cas?" Michael nodded vigorously. A thousand answers ran through Dean's mind-- _I wish, in my dreams, god please, he has a boyfriend_ \--before he settled on a simple "No, I'm not." He prayed to the god he didn't believe in that Michael didn't hear the sadness in his voice as he said it.

 

The conversation flowed much easier after that, as though they'd both been worried about it and now that it was cleared up, wasn't a problem. As it turned out, when he got going, Michael was a funny guy. He told Dean about his customers, especially the man who'd come in every month since Michael opened--five years ago--to ask if he could buy e-books.

Dean and Michael talked, joked and laughed for the next two hours, even taking a moment to be more serious and to plan their next date: an evening outing on Wednesday to Franklin Square to see the lights. They'd be celebrating the holiday season, and that Dean's whole class would be done with exams. Then, on Saturday, they would go out for a fancy dinner to celebrate Dean finishing grading the exams. 

For two lightly buzzed guys, it was a great plan.

Sometime around seven thirty, they stumbled out the door, Michael stating that he had to be up early the next morning to open the shop.

They counted 13 steps on the way up and decided to leave a Yelp review criticizing the name of the bar.

Michael managed to sober up enough to hit Dean square in the back of the head with a small woodchip he'd scrounged up somewhere. He  _wasn't_ sober enough, however, to keep it from devolving into a woodchip fight/chase down 9th street.

Dean caught Michael just in front of his door by spinning around directly in front of him and wrapping the brunette up in his arms. They stood still like that for a moment, staring at each other before Michael leaned up and kissed Dean. It wasn't mind-blowing or amazing or passionate or anything like that, just two guys kissing sweetly at the end of a good date. But when they pulled away, Dean had a sheepishly pleased look on his face and Michael looked practically giddy.

Dean motioned towards his door. "I'm just gonna...go in now. Be safe, okay? Text me when you get back to your house." Leaning forward, he gave Michael another quick kiss. "Can't wait for Wednesday." With that, he unlocked his door and slipped inside quickly, leaving Michael to stand out on the sidewalk, touching his lips lightly before turning away and strolling happily down the sidewalk.

 

Neither man saw Cas, sitting in the window of the coffee shop across the street, rip his newspaper nearly in half as he tried not to cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, Thanks for putting up with my wildly irregular updates. I apologize deeply. Exams have been kicking my ass.
> 
> Second, I apologize also for the minor angst at the end of this chapter. I just happen to really like Michael. He deserves more than he was given.
> 
> Third, I still love all of you! You're amazing! So amazing! It's shocking how amazing y'all are!
> 
> Fourth, As always, I continue to be on tumblr at queen-of-hells-bells.tumblr.com. Come find me!!!
> 
> Fifth, Leave kudos! Leave comments! Leave hate mail! Leave whatever you want! I accept everything!
> 
> Sixth, I don't really know why I'm using so many exclamation points. I think it's cause I'm tired. Sorry.


	9. Blue Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mostly just a filler chapter until the next one, in which shit goes down. Song: Blue Christmas by (obviously) Elvis Prestley. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L9-PN1sftaI.

**Sunday**

Gabriel had enough on his plate to bother being worried about his little brother, what with Balthazar being held up in Syria, so Castiel decided the ideal solution to his heartbreak was to pretend everything was fine. After all, he’d already drunk-unloaded on his brother two days ago. The same day they’d found out that Balthazar wouldn’t be home for Christmas.

So, naturally, he’d decided to go to church.

It was never an activity Gabriel had enjoyed, even when they were younger and got to leave in the middle for snacks and stories. By the time he was ten, Gabriel was sneaking off with the bigger kids to find their own snacks and play pointless games until the end of the service.

And so, while Gabriel kept to his routine and slept until mid-morning, Castiel woke early and snuck off to the service. Afterward, he stopped by the grocery store to pick up some supplies before heading home and starting the preparations for brownies. Gabriel stumbled downstairs, as always, just in time to lick the bowl.

It was clear that Gabriel wanted to talk about last night, how Castiel had slammed the door, muttering angrily to himself, and grabbed a stack of lemons bars before retreating to his top-floor bedroom; but instead Castiel just smiled, shoving the chocolatey bowl and a huge mug of coffee into his brother’s hands before running off towards his room, shouting that he needed to work, but to call if Gabriel needed him.

Only Gabriel saw that Dean was staring through the window with melancholy, and only the fact that Castiel had strictly asked him not too horrible kept him from flipping the man off. He settled for sucking the chocolate off his middle finger hard, instead.

 

**Monday**

Work was horrible. It wasn’t that first-grade teachers and high school teachers actually interacted that often, but the whole school was one big building, and it was pretty much impossible to _not_ see them. And Gabriel had clearly said _something_ to the entire lower school faculty, because every time Dean saw one, they gave him the meanest glare.

Even Gilda, the school nurse, didn’t have a kind smile for him. And she always gave him lollipops when no one was looking.

And what was somehow worse was that Sam and Ruby kept sending him texts, both supportive and otherwise: about how their days were going, about how he’d totally screwed this up (Ruby), about how Michael seemed nice from the way Dean described him (Sam), how he should totally just man up and talk to Cas (both), and how no, they weren’t going to shut up. The constant buzzing of his phone just kept reminding him how it wasn’t ever Cas that was texting him, and that the two hadn’t talked at all since that fateful trip to the bookstore.

Dean missed the guy’s inane texts about all the random shit he found on the internet. Like the one time he’d stumbled across an article that said Martians were real and were trying to destroy the Mars Rover. That one had sparked an argument about what the best science fiction story to ever exist was. (Cas was rooting for _Space_ _Odyssey_ , but Dean held firm on _Star Wars_ ). Another time, Cas had urgently texted Dean, telling him to phone. Obediently, Dean had, and had spent a solid thirty minutes listening to Cas cry about how the bees were dying, which had somehow wound around to the fact that Cas had been watching way too much _Doctor Who_ , but that’s ‘so not the point Dean, the bees are _dying_ ’.

Basically, the point was that Dean’s entire life was mapped around responding to Cas’ texts and phone calls, and the somehow scheduled meetings they had every morning over coffee (which had suddenly stopped, too), and that now they were gone and he didn’t know what to do. Not that he was going to talk about it, because he was Dean Winchester, manly man extraordinaire, and he could resist anyone’s questions as long he wasn’t a) drunk, b) facing off Sammy, and c) Sammy wasn’t using the puppy-dog eyes.

But _damn_ did he miss Cas.

 

**Tuesday**

Avoiding talking to Gabriel had taken on a life of his own: Castiel had had to change his entire routine so that everything he did happened a solid half hour later. It wasn’t like he was avoiding anyone else, he certainly had no one else to avoid. Just Gabriel and his stupid probing questions like ‘are you okay?’, ‘do you want to talk about it?’, or even the infernal ‘can I help?’. Castiel was going slowly insane and had no one to talk to about it.

Monday had been easier, he’d just channeled all his subversive anger and resentment towards the world into his review of _There is no Dog_ , and it had been, according to Zachariah, his best review yet. Castiel had glowed for about ten seconds after that until he realized that Zachariah’s hand was resting on his knee, and he’d practically screamed.

There were about a dozen unsent messages in his phone, just waiting to be sent through cyberspace to their home-in-waiting in Dean’s phone, the subjects ranging from the latest episode of _Changing Channels_ , to whether or not studio orchestra musicians count as _real_ musicians, to infant mortality rates in Illinois. All typed up, neatly lined black letters, waiting patiently to make Dean question his life once more, but Castiel just couldn’t send them.

Staring down at his phone, thinking about how to start his next review--an abysmally boring book by the title of _The Pictorial History of Electric Locomotives_ (it was historical book week at the Inquirer)--Castiel decided that he needed more friends, and need them now. There must be someone other than his brother--who was still busy handling his own emotions and problems--that Castiel could talk to about the secrets and mysteries of the universe.

There _must_ be.

 

**Wednesday**

Dean’s kid’s did well on the exam. He was sure of it. After all, he’d made it easy on purpose, and now he was out with Michael, enjoying the biting wind and cold that only seemed to be a thing in cities. It made Michael’s cheeks pink even through his hat and scarf. The color looked nice on him, a cute dusty rose that stood out sharply against his dark ( _but not crazy, sexy, insanely hot_ ) hair and striking blue ( _but just not quite blue enough_ ) eyes.

But hey, the lights were a thing and weren’t they just lovely.

Dean made the correct appreciative ooh-ing and aah-ing sounds as they took in the Christmas lights that adorned the square, firmly attempting to keep his mind on how good Michael looked in bathed in the bizarre golden-white glow that only twinkly lights seemed able to produce. He was absolutely _not_ trying to imagine Cas in the same position that Michael was in to keep the smile on his face. Of _course_ not.

Michael kept smiling at him like a little kid in a candy store: a little shy, a little overjoyed, and a little questioning, as though he thought maybe Dean wasn’t enjoying himself as much as Michael was.

Which was _ridiculous_. Dean was having a stellar time imagining that he and Cas were enjoying their first date, and if he maybe mussed Michael’s hair a bit when the man leaned in and kissed him up against the side of a light pole, it was clearly just because he’d been distracted by the kiss. It had been a good kiss, though, great.

The two of them stayed at the light show for about a half-hour, wandering through the maze of the square, trying not fall over or scar young children with their parents, before they decided to get a cup of coffee before Dean headed back to his place. Just because his exam was over didn’t mean he didn’t have to go to work. He had to proctor a Calculus exam the next morning at nine o’clock. Dean had never made it past Algebra 2, mostly because he just didn’t care enough to go any further.

When Michael kissed Dean goodbye that night, it was more than it had been last time: more of a ‘please let me come in’ kiss than a ‘great date, see you Saturday’ kiss. And Dean _wanted_ to let him come in. He _wanted_ to, but he couldn’t, so instead he pulled reluctantly away, leaned in to give Michael another quick kiss, and then told him that Saturday was their third date. The words ‘third date’ had a suggestive ring to them, which couldn’t possibly have been helped out at all by Dean’s suggestive wink.

Michael walked away that night regretfully, but with a jaunty skip to his step.

 

**Thursday**

Later that day, Castiel blames his reaction on the fact that he hadn’t had his coffee yet.

He’d just arrived in the office, totally prepared to pour himself a cup of the horrible breakroom coffee that Chuck made every morning--practically Turkish, it was so thick--and settle down at his desk to finish pounding out his ridiculously boring book review. As he’d discovered, there was literally no way to make a book about electric locomotives interesting.

However, as he passed Zachariah’s office on his way to the break room, he’d been summoned. Castiel really hated being summoned; it usually meant either being hit on or being complimented and _then_ hit on. Either way, no good could come of it.

But today, looking at Zachariah’s old, toady face spouting off how smart Castiel was, how much _potential_ he had, how Zachariah had been _so_ right to hire him because he could even make electric locomotives sound interesting (lie), all while the man’s right hand crawled slowly higher and higher up his thigh, Castiel found his resolve break.

He’d said yes. Zachariah hadn’t even asked him out, but Castiel found himself saying that yeah, he’d love to have dinner. Within five minutes, plans had been made for Saturday night at Lacroix and Castiel was out the door headed for his desk.

The text telling Dean about it was already written by the time Castiel realized that he was writing something, and was sent before he realized who it was to. Reading it again, Castiel slammed his head violently onto his desk, making Chuck look up from his cubicle across the divider and give him an odd look.

Life couldn’t be going well if _Chuck_ was giving you odd looks. The aspiring writer’s life was a riddle of bad decisions and alcohol.

 

**Friday**

‘ _I don’t really want to go on Saturday, but I already said I would. I miss you._ ’

Dean had been puzzling over the text for the past day, and it still didn’t make any sense to him. He’d shown it to Ruby and Sam, but they hadn’t had any ideas other than to text Cas back and ask him, but that just didn’t seem like a viable option. Though, Cas _had_ said that he missed Dean, so maybe it was now.

But Dean was worried: where was Cas going? Why didn’t he want to go? Why had he said he would go if he really didn’t want to? Was Cas even talking to him, or had the message been meant for someone else? Probably Gabriel. That wouldn’t honestly be super surprising. The whole thing just made his head hurt.

He’d gotten a much more understandable text from Michael, telling him that they had reservations at Lacroix for seven o’clock sharp on Saturday night.

Simple, easy, clear, just like Michael. Michael really was great, really. He deserved way better than Dean and his fucked up crush on Cas. Honestly. Dean just hadn’t quite figured out how to tell him.

He figured that ‘hey, I know you like me, and I think you’re great, but I’m actually in love with my neighbor, so I just don’t know if this is gonna work out’ might not work. In fact, he was pretty sure of it.

Dean sighed loudly enough that three of the students in the French exam he was proctoring (another thing he didn’t understand; why couldn’t they have given him something easy like Latin, or English, or even mechanical engineering?) looked up and glared at him, as though his sigh was going to keep them from getting an A. He gave them a look that he hope translated to ‘if you fail, I’ll tell Monsieur Gary it was my fault and buy you ice cream’. It only made them roll their eyes and look back to their tests.

Rolling his own eyes, Dean shoved his phone back into his pocket and picked up his book again: _Waging Peace_ (only a B+ review for Cas, there was none of his usual fire or passion), trying to make it through the next hour and a half without accidentally causing any more students to fail.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, Sorry I didn't post for so long. School let out and my sister and I had a six-hour gin rummy marathon. I won with a late surge of 120 points.
> 
> Second, Shockingly, I know, I am STILL on tumblr at queen-of-hells-bells, and I STILL want all of you to come visit, if only to just say hi.
> 
> Third, I love you all, blah blah blah, I'm sure if you actually read my notes you know this by now, probably by heart.
> 
> Fourth, Please leave comments, kudos, etc etc etc. 
> 
> Fifth, My fingers are tired of typing and yet I still type. Why is this? Is it a disease? I just don't know.
> 
> Sixth, I apologize for all of this. It's very late. Goodbye.


	10. Hard Candy Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The major fight, basically almost the end of civilized plot. 
> 
> Song of the chapter: Hard Candy Christmas by Dolly Parton (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5YFCw-RB1bE)

There was no doubt that Lacroix was a nice restaurant. It was the kind of place that had no prices on the menu except the overall price. Which was far too much, if anyone asked Dean, and didn’t even include drinks. It was also the kind of place, which, unless you came from serious money and connections, you had to reserve about a month in advance.

Given that they’d only just met two weeks ago, Dean had to assume that Michael came from both those things.

Not that that was a bad thing, like, at _all_. If it meant they could get into one of the best restaurants in the city just to have a delicious meal just to celebrate the beginning of Dean’s vacation, then he was certainly on board with it.

Dean and Michael had arrived at about five minutes to seven, and were somehow—again, Dean was _sure_ that Michael’s money and connections played into this somehow—able to be seated right away. They were at a window seat, the one against the back wall, easily the most coveted seat in the room; it was far enough from the door that they weren’t constantly hit by cold drafts from the door but far enough from the kitchen that they weren’t hot, they had a lovely view of all the passerby who weren’t as lucky as they were on that fine evening, and they could see the entire restaurant, so if they’d wanted to talk to a new arrival, it would have been easy enough.

Conversation was flowing easily, the topics ranging from the possible grades of Dean’s students (Dean was sure that they hadn’t paid any attention in class and were all going to fail, but Michael said that was nonsense, and that “of _course_ they pay attention, Dean, who wouldn’t?” Though that was followed by a wink and a suggestive nudge, so Dean wasn’t sure that Michael wasn’t entirely biased in his opinions), to sales of books at Michael’s shop (considerably higher with last-minute Christmas gifts, though that e-book man had come in again), to such mundane things as what kind of ice cream they preferred (Vanilla for Dean, Salted Caramel for Michael). They were splitting a bottle of Guy Breton, something Dean would never have even considered doing if he wasn’t with someone like Michael, when he realized what he was doing: going on a date, laughing about mundane and, honestly, _boring_ things that he couldn’t have cared less about with a man that he liked, but didn’t think he could ever see himself with. While drinking _wine_. Dean Winchester did not drink wine. He drank things like Lagavulin, Jack Daniels, Amaretto, and whatever beer they had on tap. Usually Yuengling. And he _certainly_ didn’t date if he thought it wasn’t going anywhere, he’d stopped doing that around the same time Sam had started dating Ruby.

Okay, maybe it had been exactly three months after they started dating, when the giant moose had finally brought the girl home to “meet”—they’d already met several times, mostly by accident—Dean and the two had spent the whole night giving each other these super annoying longing looks. That’s when Dean had known that they’d end up together, and that was the time he’d sworn off dating until he found “the one”, not that he was going to tell anyone that, the guys already thought he was sissy enough, he didn’t need—

“Dean?” Dean jolted, flicking his eyes backdown from where they’d been resting, somewhere above Michael’s head. The man was looking at him with worry in his eyes, holding the bottle of wine somewhat uncertainly in his right hand. “You okay?”

Dean smiled at him, hoping it didn’t look too forced. “Yeah. I’m great. Why?”

Michaels’ smile was tired, but amused. “Well, I’ve been trying to ask you if you wanted a refill for the past five minutes. What’s going on in that head of yours?”

“Just thinkin’ bout you.” There, that brought a smile to Michael’s face, and it wasn’t even a total lie. _Go you_ , he thought to himself happily. “But, uh, yes please. I’d love some more.” _NO!_ Dean grimaced a smile, knowing that it looked forced this time. It wasn’t that the wine wasn’t good, it was just that it tasted exactly the same as the five dollar bottle he’d gotten over at Whole Foods a few days ago for Sammy, and given that Michael hadn’t let him look at the wine menu, he guessed this bottle cost considerably more. What a waste.

Michael grinned, apparently not noticing the pained look on his companion’s face, and poured him a second glass. He was just setting the bottle down when a loud cough came from above the table. Looking up, Dean found himself looking into one of the ugliest faces he’d ever seen, more like a toad than anything else, the cheeks just a little too bulbous to, as though they were mini foreheads.

“Zachariah!” Michael was standing, clapping the toad-man— _Zachariah_ —on the back, which was apparently, as Dean’s body informed him, his cue to also stand. “What on earth are you doing here? You hate French food.” Lowering his voice, Michael smiled at the man conspiratorially. “In fact, you hate everything French. Has the world turned on its axis? Ah,” Apparently Zachariah made Michael ADHD. “Allow me to introduce you to my date, Dean Winchester. Dean, this is my cousin, Zachariah Adler.”

Dean leaned forward, uncomfortably shaking the man’s hand. It was clammy and uncomfortable, feeling more like one of those jelly toys that absolutely everyone had as a child: slick, slippery, and always trying to escape your grasp. “Pleasure.”

Zachariah leered at him, whether intentionally or not. Dean had a feeling it was his attempt at a normal smile. “Likewise, I’m sure. Anyway, Michael, I’m here with my _own_ date. He’s just over there, the one with the dark hair.” Zachariah pointed with the hand he’d just liberated from Dean’s grasp, making Dean feel bad for the poor man who apparently wasn’t even worthy of a name. Turning towards where the toad had gestured, he felt his breath catch in his throat, before giving way to a quick rise of anger.

“Cas?”

 

Castiel’s head jerked up, looking all around for the source of his name. He was sure it wasn’t Zachariah; the man would never say his name in such a way: angry, reverent, annoyed, tantalized, and, most importantly, shortened. Finally, his gaze fell to rest on the one man he was afraid it had been: Dean.

Who was quickly and—a little too—calmly making his way towards Castiel’s table. Castiel could see the storm that Dean’s quiet was hiding, the incredible anger that was lurking just beneath the oh-so-beautiful smile. He rose from his seat, holding out his hands to placate the wave that was clearly about to crash down on him. If he could just figure out _why_ Dean was so angry, he could probably work out a way to avoid it. Hopefully.

“Dean. Hello.” The smile—more of a grimace at this point, really—tightened at Castiel’s words. “How are you?”

Dean made a strained sound before visibly restraining himself. “Could we venture outside for a moment?” Castiel was nervous. Dean seemed truly angry, and Castiel still wasn’t sure why. And yet, for reasons unknown, he found himself nodding a quick assent and following Dean out the door, only pausing for a moment to turn and reassure Michael and Zachariah through hand motion that they’d only be a minute.

Dean was pacing by the time Castiel exited the restaurant, somehow already across the street and into the park. “Dean!” Castiel shouted to be heard across the traffic. “Dean!” A red light; Castiel took the chance to dash across the street and up to Dean. “What the hell?”

“What the hell?” Dean’s face was incredulous, an expression that only grew when Castiel shrugged helplessly. “What the _hell_? What the hell’s with _you_ , Cas?” Castiel flinched. “Oh, what, you don’t like me to call you that anymore? That why you’ve been so freakin’ distant? I mean it, man, what the _hell_? You _knew_ , you _must_ have…” Dean trailed off, looking at Castiel hopefully for a moment before sighing and running a hand over his face. “But never mind that. How the hell could you do this to Gabriel?”

Castiel jerked backwards, stunned by Dean’s casual accusation. “Be careful what you say, _Winchester_. What goes on between me and Gabriel is our business, not _yours_.”

Dean leaned in towards him, clearly amping up for a fight. “Well, of _course_ it is, I’d expect that. But _this_? For gods sake, didn’t he have something to _say_ about this?”

“About what? The date? Yeah, he did. He told me to fucking _go on it_. Not that it’s any of your business. Why the hell shouldn’t I? Cause he’s my boss?”

For whatever reason, that information made Dean stumble. “Your boss? _Zachariah's_  your _boss_? The same boss who’s been harassing you? And you’re on a _date_ with him?” Dean turned for a moment, walking in a small circle with his eyes shut before opening them again and pinning them to Castiel’s. “ _Gabriel_ told you to go on a date with _Zachariah_? What, is there some kind of evil plan? You gonna hurt him or something? Cause I mean, I know you two are fucked up—“

Castiel growled, the only warning he gave Dean before stepping forward and catching the taller man’s tie in a tight grip. “Watch yourself. You may be taller than me, and you may think you’re so much _better_ than me, but you will leave Gabriel out of this. I don’t know what you know, but

Gabriel is _not_ to be trifled with. He’s been through too much.” Searching Dean’s eyes for something, he wasn’t entirely sure what it was, but he knew he’d know it if he saw it, Castiel released the man’s tie and stepped back. “Now, if you have anything else to say, I suggest you do so. Otherwise, I considerably hope we never speak again.” _How_ dare _Dean bring Balthazar into all this. How did Dean even_ know _about Balthazar? Neither of_ them _had mentioned it_.

Castiel was so deeply buried in his thoughts that he missed the momentary shock and hurt on Dean’s face, an emotion that was quickly replaced by anger. “Fine.” Dean’s voice broke through the depressing track that thinking about Balthazar always took Castiel down. “If that’s what you want, Castiel, we won’t speak again.”

Castiel had watched a number of people walk away from him: his parents, his brothers, his coworkers, ex-boyfriends, Balthazar, even the odd boss or two, but for some reason the thing that hurt the most this time was that Dean had used his full name. Sighing, Castiel sank onto the bench behind him, burying his head in his hands and trying valiantly not to cry.

 

Dean slammed through the door of Lacroix, swept to the premier table he’d been sitting at with Michael, and paused, looking down at his date and his date’s cousin. They were exchanging small talk about the world of publishing and the stock exchange. “Zachariah, may I speak to you for a moment?” The toad-man looked up at him expectantly, sighing when Dean motioned for him to stand, though he did so. “You work at the Inquirer.” A tired nod. “You’re Castiel’s boss.”

Zachariah glanced down at Michael, the look only lasting a half-second but clearly expressing that he thought Dean was an idiot.

“You’ve been harassing him, for months. Years, even, I’m willing to bet. Just couldn’t take no for an answer, could you?” The stunned look on Zach’s face was priceless. Dean would treasure this forever. “We have that in common, you and I. I, however, can’t resist this small victory.” Without giving any sort of warning, be it motion or word, Dean slammed his fist into Zachariah’s bulbous nose, grinning at the loud cracking sound.

Shaking out his hand, Dean smiled down at Zach’s hunched form. “That’ll bruise. I recommend an ice pack. Oh, also, don’t ever speak to Castiel again. Even if you’re giving out assignments, just email it to him. This never happened.” Turning his gaze to his date, Dean took in Michael’s shocked expression for a moment before sighing. “Michael, I’m sorry, but this just isn’t going to work out. I’m sorry. You’re amazing, really, and I hope you have a great life. I’m gonna mail you your Christmas present.”

Michael nodded slowly but didn’t protest.

Somehow, Dean wasn’t surprised. He threw fifty dollars down on the table, hoping it would at least make a dent in the cost of the meal that he hadn’t gotten to eat, and strode purposefully out of the restaurant, not even letting his eyes drift to the Castiel-filled bench as he turned the corner and ran down 19th Street and out of sight, not stopping until he’d collapsed onto his wonderful memory foam mattress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, I just want to let everyone know that, clearly, we're nearing the end! Only two real chapters, and then a shockingly cliche epilogue thingy. I'm sure you're all shocked that a Christmas story will have a cliche ending.
> 
> Second, As always I'm at tumblr at queen-of-hells-bells. Whatever. You all know that by now.
> 
> Third, PLEASE PLEASE PLEEEEEASE leave comments and kudos. I love both equally (though, as with any good parent, I have a clear favorite. Guess.)
> 
> Fourth, I STILL LOVE YOU ALL. PLEASE REMEMBER THAT. YOU ARE AMAZING.


	11. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Balthazar appears, they do the do, Dean goes to church (???) and general cuteness abounds. Huzzah!

A short—well, relatively short, at any rate—man was trying to break into Castiel’s house. Or, at least, it looked like he was; as Sam got closer he saw that the man actually had a key, and was just struggling to open the door under his multitude of bags.

“Here, here, let me help.” Sam jogged the last few steps towards the man and reached out to take some things. The blonde looked up at him and smiled.

“Thank you, you tall tall man.” The door now unlocked, he took a small step back to survey Sam, before snapping his finger in recognition. “You must be Sam Winchester! Yes, Gabriel’s told me all about you. Apparently Cassie and your brother are having…let’s call it ‘fun’, shall we?” He smirked, the look clearly as close to a smile as he was going to get. “I’m Balthazar. Roche.”

Sam smiled heartily. “Well, I’m Sam, but you already know that. And, um, I’m not sure I’d call what Castiel and Dean are doing ‘fun’. More like, they like each other more than they can deal with and therefore aren’t dealing with it.” The man—Balthazar—nodded thoughtfully, making Sam feel like he had to add more information. It was annoying, so instead he went for questions. “So, what’s your relation to Castiel?”

Balthazar chuckled. “Oh, me and Cassie dear aren’t related at all, not really. Not by blood. I’m Gabriel’s boyfriend.” He apparently took Sam’s stunned silence for what it was: confusion. “Life partner, I suppose you’d call it. We’ve been together over a decade now.” Suddenly, a real smile took hold of the man’s features. Sam didn’t have time to appreciate how nice it was.

“But…Gabriel and Cas. They’re not…” Balthazar was giving him a weird look, and Sam struggled to finish his question. Finally he settled for just blurting out the words like a highschooler. “They’re not dating?”

Honestly, the last thing Sam expected was for Balthazar to laugh. But laugh he did, loud and proud: head thrown back and then bending over and slapping his knee, like an old man. “Oh, kid, you have no idea how long it’s been since I laughed that hard. No. They’re not dating. They’re _brothers_.”

Brothers. _Brothers_? That was… “I’m sorry, I have to go talk to my brother. It’s been really lovely to meet you. Bye.” Without another word, Sam bounded up the steps to Dean’s house, unlocking the door in record time and leaping through the doorway, practically straight into his big brother. “Dean!”

“Sammy boy, what’s goin’ on? Where’s the fire?”

There were a lot of thoughts running through Sam’s mind on the subject of how to tell his brother that Cas and Gabriel were brothers. But absolutely none of them included what he actually did: “Cas. Dean, _Cas_.”

Everything in Dean’s body straightened at Sam’s words, as though he’d been slapped. “What about him? Sam, tell me what happened.”

And yet another instance of _not the plan_ happened: “Gabriel.” Like a shot, Dean was out the door, around the small iron divider, and banging on Cas’ front door with all his strength.

“ _Gabriel_! _Gabriel, open the damn door_! _Tell me where Castiel is_! _What the hell did you do to him_?”

Oddly—though really not all that oddly when Sam thought about it—Gabriel didn’t opened the door. Instead, he just shouted from inside. “Winchester, so help me god now is _not_ a good time. I think he went to church, but I am _not_ my brother’s keeper, I don’t keep fucking tabs on him. Now go away!”

Dean jerked away from the door at the phrase ‘my brother’s keeper’, turned to Sam, mouthed the words again, and then turned back to the door, a determined look on his face. “Gabriel! What church?”

There was a loud, annoyed sigh from the other side of the door, and it was suddenly wrenched open to reveal a very flushed, very pissed off, very kissed-looking Gabriel. “Saint Peter’s Church, it’s on the corner of Third and Pine, now _go. The fuck. Away._ ” The door slammed in Dean’s face, making the taller man sigh, square his shoulders, and step off into the sidewalk.

“Dean?” Sam’s voice was quiet, cautious, as he looked down at his brother. “You okay?”

Dean’s words were quiet when he finally spoke. “Brothers…” He nodded a few time, patted his pockets as if looking for something, and then turned to his brother. “Sammy, I gotta go to church. You wanna come? Never mind, you’re not invited. Bye.” Without another word, not even addressing Sam’s gaping fish-face, Dean turned and strode down off the sidewalk.

 

They were singing _Angels we have heard on high_ when Dean huffed and puffed to a halt in front of the old church, the sweet tones of a people’s chorus filling the air. He walked in nervously, looking around as though he expected to be punished. Dean hadn’t been to church in years, since Jo’s wedding to Victor, but he more or less remembered the rules: no talking, no hats, no coughing, no fun. He sighed quietly, waving off the attendant who tried to hand him a program as he looked round for Cas.

Finally he spotted him, sitting up in the balcony on the other side of the room. He rushed up the steps, as quietly as possible, and crossed the mostly empty upper level to sit near his neighbor. Or, well, _stand_ near him, because apparently everyone in this freakin’—sorry, big guy in the sky—church stood while they sang. Whatever.

Dean waved when he took his place next to Castiel, internally sighing at the way the other man ignored him. Sure, they’d agreed to never talk again, but that was before he knew that Castiel and Gabriel were just brothers. That was back when he thought…oh well.

 _Okay, so we can’t talk, I’ll just…figure something else out_. Finally, his subconscious was being fucking helpful. Dean looked around the box, eyes finally alighting on a pen hanging from a tiny hook and his program. Perfect.

Ignoring the annoyed look Cas was shooting him, Dean sat down and fashioned himself a letter, still singing along softly to every song that was played. Just because he didn’t go to church didn’t mean he didn’t know the songs:

_Dear Cas_

_I’m gonna start with ‘I’m sorry’, cause it’s the truest part of all this. Well, I mean, all of it’s true, but that’s the most important part, I guess. Depending on how you look at it. I’m sorry I was such a dick to you. I’m sorry I went out with Michael, I’m sorry for all the times I hurt you that I didn’t mean to. And I don’t mean to excuse my actions, but I do have a reason._

_It’s cause I love you, Cas. I hope it’s okay that I call you Cas again, because man, saying Castiel just doesn’t feel right. It’s not you, ya know? Castiel is a stuffy businessman in a suit, Cas is my friend. Cas is the goddamn love of my life. Yeah, Cas, I love you, and that’s why I did all that shitty stuff. Because I didn’t want to get hurt. Because—and, now knowing the truth, this sounds ridiculous—I thought you were dating your brother._

_Ruby sent me this picture a few weeks ago, just the day after we ‘met’—through the window, remember—of you and Gabriel. He was sitting on your lap and we all just assumed. And because of that, mixed with that I’m in love with you, I needed to be distant, needed to forget. So I dated Michael, and told you that I wasn’t your business, and that hurt you and god, Cas, I’m sorry. I’ve never been more sorry, about anything. Except maybe that one time I accidentally broke Sammy’s arm, but that feels different._

_You don’t have to forgive me, you don’t have to every speak to me. It’s okay. I’d understand. I just figure that it’s Christmas, and since at Christmas you tell the truth, that I’d tell you all this. Also, some guy came to your house and started making out with Gabriel and kinda spilled the beans on the whole brother card to Sammy._

_But it’s whatever, as long as you’re happy, I’ll be happy too._

_Merry Christmas,_

_Dean_

Quietly, Dean slipped the letter onto Cas’ seat—he was up getting communion—and escaped out the door he’d come in. No one tried to stop him, but he made sure Cas saw him leave. When he caught the man’s eye, he gave a tight smile and a tiny wave and slipped out the door, wandering the well-worn brick sidewalks back to his own part of town.

 

It was nearly an hour later when Dean’s own door was being busily knocked down. Warily—he had a pretty good idea who it might be, but he was keen to avoid all the options—Dean made his way to the door, unlocking it carefully and leaping backwards so that it wouldn’t hit him in the face when it was swung violently inwards.

The door didn’t hit him, it was true, but Cas sure did when he breezed in. Except that this wasn’t Cas, Dean’s dorky neighbor and love who needed at least three cups of coffee in the morning and danced to Christmas music while baking cookies. This was pure Castiel, avenging angel straight from Heaven, ready to smite and destroy in the name of what he believed. And yet Dean still loved the crap outta the guy.

Castiel backed Dean up until he was pressed against the back wall. “Dean Winchester.” His voice was a growl, and Dean got the feeling that he wasn’t supposed to answer yet. “How dare you.” The words were question words, but they still didn’t _sound_ like a question. He brandished the program from the church in the hand that wasn’t pinning Dean’s throat to the wall, which was some just incredibly sexy. “Dean Winchester, you _asshole_. You are a fucking _assbutt_ , How _dare_ you come to my church on Christmas Eve and leave me this…this…this…” Castiel seemed to run out of steam, the walls falling and revealing Cas, but then his head came back up, once again filled with that crazy angelic power. “You let me because you _love_ me? What kind of self-sacrificing bullshit is that? Did it never occur to you that I might also love you? Did it never fucking occur to you to just _ask_ about my relationship with Gabriel? What is your _problem_?”

For whatever reason, that seemed like the ideal time to jump in. “What’s _my_ problem? I thought I covered that pretty damn well in the letter. Honestly, why the hell didn’t you say ‘I’m Castiel Novak, my brother Gabriel’s staying with me for a little while’. How fucking hard would that have been, might I ask?”

They stared at each other, chests heaving, faces annoyed, before Castiel dropped his head to his chest and raised it again, becoming pure Cas. He swallowed nervously. “Do you…do you really…do you love me?”

“Yes, Cas, god yes.” There was more to Dean’s answer, but it was swallowed by Cas kissing him hungrily, slotting their mouths together like they were created to fit that way.

The kisses were fiery and passionate, light and airy, sweet and soft, hungry and angry, and, somehow, always loving. Until Cas suddenly pulled away to lean his head against Dean’s chest and laugh softly. “We’re such fucking idiots.”

Dean chuckled, nuzzling into Cas’ hair, a sensation that…nope, he’d never get tired of. “Yeah, but we’re each other’s idiots.” They laughed again, just standing, leaning against the wall in Dean’s living room, holding onto each other like they’d never let go. “Come on, nerdlet, let’s get to bed.”

Cas looked up at Dean, a teasing look on his face. “Why Mr. Winchester, how _scandalous_. Just imagine what the neighbors will say.”

“They’ll say that I’m the luckiest fucking man on the planet.” Dean grinned at Cas, leaning down just a bit to press yet another kiss onto the man’s now swollen lips. “Now come _on_.” Taking Cas’ hand, Dean pulled him up the three flights of stairs to his room, an ordeal that took slightly longer than it should have, seeing how they had to pause every other step to make out against the wall.

Gabriel would probably complain about the noise in the morning, but since he and Balthazar had doubtless spent the entire evening trying to break the walls, Cas had no compunctions about returning the favor. Apparently, neither did Dean.

He’d have to check that wall for stability in the morning. Or the next they weren’t having sex. Whichever came later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, Merry Fucking Christmas to all of you. It's been a long haul but here we are.
> 
> Second, we're nearly done, and isn't that just...honestly a little depressing. I'm sorry I wasn't as good about updates as I should have been, but we've got one more chapter and then an epilogue thingy. So there's that.
> 
> Third, I'm still (STILL, I KNOW) on tumblr at queen-of-hells-bells.tumblr.com
> 
> Fourth, I hope all y'all are having good Christmases, Chanukah's, Kwanzas, and whatever else you're celebrating. Yay! Holidays!
> 
> Fifth, I love all of you *mwah*
> 
> Sixth, Leave kudos/comments if you want, I'm going to bed.
> 
> Seventh, Night.


	12. White Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick finish-up to this obnoxious story. Congrats on making it.

There was something poking Cas in the stomach. It was hard and pointy and annoyingly incessant. He swatted at it, which only served to renew the attack. "Dean. Fuck off."

Suddenly the poking sensation was gone and there was a heavy weight on his stomach: Dean. He opened one blue eye and squinted. Dean grinned down at him. "Morning, you. Come look outside!"

Cas grumbled, annoyed, but rolled over-- _totally_ accidentally dropping Dean onto the bed beside him and lumbered the short distance to the window. He saw nothing. There was a great influx of light through the window and it was way too bright. "Dean, what the _fuck_ am I supposed to be looking at?" Dean scrambled up to stand beside his--boyfriend?

"It's snowing! Cas, we're having a white Christmas!"

The looks the two of them gave each other would have been hilarious to an outsider: Dean's far too sunny grin against Cas' sleepy squinting and crazy bedhead. After a beat, Cas leaned forward, gave Dean a quick peck on the lips, turned, and collapsed back onto the bed.

"Dean, I love you," his words were mumbled and muffled by the pillow, "but if you wake me up before nine o'clock on a holiday again, we're breaking up. Good  _night_."

Briefly, just before he was slammed by unconsciousness, Cas heard Dean chuckle and felt the soft press of lips against his foreheads. It was good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, last real chapter. Next is just an epilogue thing. As I said before, congrats on making it all the way to the end. Special thanks to everyone who left kudos/comments; y'all are the best.
> 
> In other news, if you get the chance, watch Jeeves and Wooster. It has Hugh Laurie and Stephen Fry being awesome in 1920s England. Amazing. Absolutely no relation to this story whatsoever except that I wrote one and love the other.
> 
> Cheers!

**Author's Note:**

> First, I want you all to know that i wrote this at 1:20 in the morning, and just posted it. Good idea? Probably not.
> 
> Second, please please PLEASE leave comments. Constructive criticism/compliments/ideas about what should happen next are always welcome.
> 
> Third, I have no plan for this story. I'm going in totally blind. I apologize in advance.
> 
> Fourth, you can find me on tumblr at queen-of-hells-bells.tumblr.com. Please come be my friend there too.
> 
> Fifth, if you actually rea all the way to this point, congratulations! You win....points for moral fiber :)


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